


Bait

by SushiOwl



Series: Tumblr Commissions [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (But not gun kink), BDSM, Biting, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Gun Violence, M/M, Name-Calling, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Delay, POV Chris Argent, Restraints, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: Chris and Peter go on the hunt for an incubus at a BDSM club. When they have no luck, they decide to lure it out.It is all Peter's idea.





	Bait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts).



> -drags hands down face- This was supposed to be a 3,000 word commission, and it's over 5,000 words! Aaaaugh! 
> 
> I like it though. I love writing rough dom/sub stuff that's still safe, sane and consensual.

Maybe their intel had been wrong. 

Chris frowned as he sat at the bar, a barely touched glass with two fingers of whiskey in his hand. Glancing around the club, he tried not to gawk at anything while also studying everything. This was not the kind of place he frequented. Not that he frequented any kind of place that wasn’t a sports bar with hot wings. But this? This was a BDSM club, and it was difficult not to see a whole lot of skin.

He had received word from his hunting associates that there was an incubus in town. Nasty pieces of work, those were. They liked to slowly drain their victims of their life force over weeks until they died of what seemed like natural causes. Though there was nothing natural about a healthy twenty-five year old with kidney failure. Chris couldn’t have that, not when he’d promised Sheriff Stilinski that he would do his best to limit death via the supernatural in Beacon Hills.

So here he was, sitting at the bar in a place called _Love Bites_ of all things, trying to figure out who might be a lust demon. And since incubi looked the same as humans but smelled drastically different, he had brought a werewolf with a keen nose along with him. He had a tiny, sneaking suspicion that said werewolf was bored.

“I’m bored,” Peter said for what had to be the tenth time.

Chris pressed his lips together and didn’t respond, because they had already had this conversation. They weren’t here to have fun. They had a job to do. Peter would whine that he couldn’t smell the baddie and they were in a carnival for adults. Why not indulge? Chris would tell him _no_ , and they would go right back to sitting there and just watching.

“Welp, we have been here two hours,” Peter said, setting down his glass and whirling about-face toward the belly of the club. “I am going to go explore now.” He slid off the stool, walking off without any other word.

“Peter!” Chris hissed after him, but the werewolf ignored him, sashaying away. Chris couldn’t help but drop his eyes to Peter’s ass. He had dressed up for this, wanted to look the part in a second skin-like black tank top, leather pants so tight there was no hope of pocket access, biker boots high on his calves and fingerless gloves with studs on the knuckles. His hair was neatly slicked, his goatee finely trimmed. And to top it all off, he had a collar on, complete with little spikes and an empty D-ring that would have been so easy to hook with a finger and tug.

Chris, on the other hand, was dressed the same as usual in his hunter dad chic.

He hurried after Peter as smoothly as he could, wanting to make sure he didn’t get himself in trouble with his careful mastery of stirring up shit. 

“Can you at least keep an eye out?” he asked Peter when he caught up to him.

“If it comes in, I will smell it,” Peter said, tapping the side of his nose while considering a woman on a dais as she was wrapped in bright purple, knotted rope from her shoulders, her naked chest, her bound hands and her pelvis barely clothed in lacy white panties. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she was gnawing her lips as she rubbed her thighs together. Her dom, an older, stocky woman was murmuring in her ear. Chris couldn’t hear what she was saying, but there was no doubt Peter could.

Chris tore his eyes away as the tied woman grinned suddenly, a flash of teeth before her head was pulled back by a firm grip on her hair. “Peter, this is private,” he whispered to the werewolf. “We shouldn’t--”

“If this were private, they wouldn’t be out in the open like this,” Peter said, not even looking at him. “Some people get off on a little exhibition, some like the weight of eyes on them.”

Chris really look at Peter then, saw the intensity in his blue eyes. Before he could ask anything, Peter was turning away.

“Let’s go check the private rooms. It's a little difficult for me to discern some smells with all this arousal in the air.” He walked off without saying anything more, which was apparently a trend tonight.

Chris followed after, doing his best to not stare at other people in various states of undress, but that was like trying not to stare at water when you’re in the middle of an ocean. He caught up to Peter at a hostess podium, where he was chatting with a woman in a bodice, booty shorts and not much else.

“It’s thirty-five for a room,” she was saying, her elbow on the podium and her chin on her hand as she batted her eyelashes at Peter, looking painfully smitten.

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Peter said, smiling sweetly, before he looked pointedly at Chris.

Chris stared back a second, before he frowned. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly.

“Does it look like I’m carrying my wallet?” Peter purred, turning and sliding his hands up over the painted on leather curve of his pants and their pockets over his backside.

Chris pulled his lips into a line and slowly tilted his gaze up to the ceiling, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his billfold. He counted out the money without looking, knowing exactly how many bills he had and what order they were in, before he handed it over to the woman wordlessly.

She took it in exchange for a key card. “You are in the red room,” she said, sounding so amused as she blatantly stared at Peter’s ass where it was still being presented. “Down the hall, past the curve, second to last door. You can't miss it. It's the red one.”

Peter took the key card from Chris. “Thank you, love,” he said to the employee, winking.

Chris would have vomited if he didn’t know exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that charm. So he understood the blush on the woman’s cheeks and why she licked her lips slowly as she watched him walk by. She grinned at him, cat-like, and Chris trudged by while pretending he wasn’t highly uncomfortable.

As he followed after Peter, he noticed him turn his attention to each door, his nostrils flaring, and Chris had to sag a little in relief that Peter was at least taking this partially seriously. The wolf may have had little empathy to speak of, but at least he tried to help at times. Chris wasn’t sure why, but Peter always made time to chase down a beastie when Chris asked nicely. (And gave him money, but anyway.)

Then Peter stopped, looking at a pale green door and squinting a little. He sniffed, before he jerked back with a snuffle, looking highly displeased. He covered his nose.

“What is it?” Chris asked, stepping closer and reaching under the back of his jacket for one of his pistols.

Peter snorted out a laugh, before he pulled his hand away from his face to point to the room. “That should be the brown door,” he said, perfectly serious.

Chris didn’t get it at first, his mind still running circles around worst case scenarios, but when he understood all the urgency fell out of his body and he slumped. Peter grinned at him like he wanted to be rewarded for his crude joke, but Chris just pointed to his own bland expression.

“This is the face I make when I hate you,” he said autonomously.

Peter’s face melted into displeasure, because he knew that was Christ’s default face, and he turned away with a hissed, _”Bitch.”_

But Chris saw that flash of a smile.

When they reached the end of the hall, Peter hummed and turned to look at Chris, shrugging one shoulder to indicate he hadn’t smelled anything abnormal (for a place like this). Chris sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, and when he looked at Peter again he was opening up the red door and walking inside. Chris followed, squinting at his back.

“We don’t actually need to be back here if the incubus isn’t,” he halfheartedly complained as he measured the pros and cons of just leaving. 

“Sure, we do,” Peter said, walking around the room.

It was deceptively simple looking, with a bed, couch, coffee table, TV and a tall, broad cabinet. It could have been any hotel room, except Chris knew that inside that cabinet was something--probably several somethings--you couldn’t get just anywhere. When Peter opened said cabinet and let out a hum of approval, Chris knew he was right and, with a painful curiosity that was responsible for a few of his scars, moved over to have a look himself.

The first thing he saw was the metal shine of a pair of handcuffs. Next to them were leather cuffs, connected by a few rings. There was rope, both harsh and silk, and soft looking leather straps. He saw floggers, a whip, two canes and a paddle. Chris stared a moment at the gags, specifically the ring gag, swallowing silently at the implications. There were toys: dildos of slight to generous sizes, plugs, bullets and vibrators. Down below the toys was a folded up fucking machine, looking the end of its arm ready for something to be stuck on. 

It was kind of amazing that such an assortment of implements could fit into a small space, but they were very neatly organized and smelled very clean.

Peter reached in and took a single tail of one of the softer floggers, his fingers sliding down it. He looked at Chris, and his pupils were definitely a little more dilated. “So, hear me out,” he said, and Chris immediately made a face. “We’re hunting an incubus, ” Peter continued, giving Chris a sweet smile.

Chris wondered how he could say _go on_ but also _shut up_ in the same sentence. “Yes,” he said as flatly as possible.

“Incubi are attracted to sexual energy. They feed on it.”

Chris, being a man the just turned fifty-two and had been around the block a few times back when there had been blocks, followed Peter’s logic, and his face got even more unimpressed somehow. “Are you saying we should fuck so we’ll be bait?”

Peter gave him a smile as if to say _you said it, not me._

Don’t shoot the werewolf, Chris. It would just attract attention and wouldn’t ultimately solve the problem.

Chris took a deep breath and counted to five. “Peter, we can’t just---” 

“Look, I know this isn’t your thing,” Peter interrupted, gesturing to the cabinet of goodies.

Chris looked at the stuff and momentarily forgot he was going to be the sane one here and list all the reasons why boning would be a _bad idea_ , frowning at the werewolf and crossing his arms. “Who says?” he asked.

Peter froze for a second, eyes a little wide. “You are into this?” When Chris just gave a single-shoulder shrug that was neither an admittance or a denial, Peter tilted his head a little. “But you made such a fuss about coming here alone.”

“I’m not really one to broadcast my…” He waved a hand, trying to come up with a good word.

“Lifestyle?” Peter finished for him, smirking, and Chris rolled his eyes but nodded once. “How long has it been?”

“Years,” Chris told him.

“Since Victoria?”

Chris didn’t quite understand it, but Peter spoke about most people with a mocking tone. It was his thing, among many. But he had never referred to Chris’s late wife that way, in the limited amount of time he had mentioned her at all. Chris didn’t think he actually respected her. Maybe he just didn’t want to get punched.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Peter moved closer, moving slow so Chris could easily track him. He put his hands underneath Chris’s jacket, sliding his fingers over his shoulders so the fabric would slide off and down his arms. The jacket hit the floor with a plop as Peter’s hands slid to Chris’s neck. “Victoria did seem like the type to put her boot on someone’s throat.”

“We switched,” Chris said, before he grabbed Peter’s wrists and had his elbows bent behind his head in half a second, making Peter’s eyes burn electric blue. “If we’re going to do this, I’m calling the shots.”

Peter’s eyes went back to their normal icy color. “Oh, and why’s that? Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

With a blink, Peter’s shrugged as best he could in the position. “Fair enough.” The tension left his shoulders, his arms sagging a bit in Chris’s grip. “Green, yellow, red,” he told him.

“Same,” Chris replied, standing up a bit taller. “You want me to make you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, and was that a minute shudder that ran through his body? “I don’t mind some abuse. Anywhere. It’s not like you can leave marks I’ll need to cover up. You can be mean, that’s fine. Make me work for it.”

“And here I thought you like it when things come easy to you,” Chris remarked, pressing closer so he could get more leverage to pull Peter’s wrists down between his shoulders, making him arch a bit. 

“Not this.” Peter pulled his lip through his teeth. “I only enjoy it when someone is good enough at it.” He tilted his head, looking perfectly asshole-ish for someone with his hands bound. “Are you?”

So, maybe Chris was not immune to challenges. He let go of Peter’s wrists and grabbed his neck, squeezing enough to feel his Adam’s apple bob under his palm as he turned and pushed Peter against the wall. Peter’s hand came up like he was going to grab at Chris’s arm, but he seemed to reconsider, dropping it again and looking at him like he was so damn curious what he was going to do.

“We’ll do this,” Chris said, keeping his voice even. “But you have to keep your head. You can’t fall into subspace.”

It took a second for Peter to answer, brows furrowing a little, like he was trying to figure out which question in his lineup he wanted to ask first. “Why?”

“If the incubus comes, I’m going to _need_ you.” Okay, that inflection didn’t come out right.

Peter looked delighted though, licking his lips. “Alright, Christopher, I’ll do my best, but you better not hold back, or I might take the reins from you.”

Chris looked Peter up and down, taking a moment to make a plan, before he took a step back. “Turn around,” he said, waiting until he did and taking note of the defiant smile on his face, before he grabbed the rope, the regular kind, not the soft silk. He grabbed Peter’s arms, bending and posing them properly with forearms parallel to each other and Peter’s hands next to their opposing elbows. 

He looped the rope around Peter’s wrists, making sure to use an actual bondage knot instead of one meant to keep someone tied indefinitely. Not that Peter couldn’t have broken out in a second, but this one would be easiest for him to untie when he wanted to let Peter go. He rubbed his thumbs over the leather clad palms of Peter’s hands, earning a soft inhale then a slow exhale. 

He took Peter by the elbows and tugged him back against his body. Peter went a little stiff, widening his stance a little since he couldn’t use his arms for balance, and Chris wrapped one arm around his waist. “I’ve got you,” he murmured to him absently, and Peter looked at him, brow furrowed, before he slowly relaxed against Chris’s front.

Chris tried to remember what Peter liked, but when it came to the handful of times he and Peter had actually fucked, two of them had been when Chris was slightly wasted and the other two were hasty mutual handjobs in a car on a stakeout. None of those times had come with the opportunity to explore. So he would just have to play it by ear, he guess.

He took the hem of Peter’s shirt and tried to ruck it up, but it was so tight that he could only get it up to the bottom of his rib cage. He attempted to get his hand underneath it, but there wasn’t enough room. He sighed. It usually wasn’t so soon in a sexual escapade that he hit a hurdle.

“Lift it up to my mouth,” Peter said as Chris was weighing his options, and chris made a _hm?_ sound in question. “The collar of my shirt, lift it up.” Peter gave him a pointed look, eyebrows lifted.

Chris took the collar of the shirt and was not prepared for Peter’s to rip through the fabric with his fangs, leaving a hole a few fingers wide. He watched Peter spit out a bit of fabric and then grin at him, his teeth slowly--more slowly than necessary--go back to human blunt. “I guess you’re not attached to this shirt,” Chris commented as he took both hand and ripped the shirt down the front.

“Oh no, the _just got into a college bar fight_ look is in these days,” Peter said, not-so-subtly arching his chest into Chris’s hands.

Rolling his eyes, Chris grabbed the hair on the back of Peter’s head, jerking it back and privately enjoying the gasp he let out, before he splayed his other hand on Peter’s chest, pushing the fabric to the sides and touching his skin. He was hot, practically burning, and that was a detail Chris remembered from before. But he shivered a little like he was cold, goosebumps raising along the path of skin that Chris fingers made.

“You’re responsive,” Chris said with a small amount of wonder as Peter squirmed just a little when Chris rubbed his fingers lightly over his nipple. “Sensitive?” At Peter’s little noise, he hummed. “Even after--?”

“Dying?” Peter finished for him. “Yes. Comes with being practically reborn.”

“Huh.” Chris grabbed that nipple between his thumb and finger, pinching gently. Peter arched into the sensation, so Chris tightened his hold and tugged.

“Fuck,” Peter hissed, making a motion like he wasn’t sure if he wanted more or to get away.

“C’mon,” Chris said, taking hold of Peter’s elbows and dragging him back, taking only a little bit of pleasure in the way the Peter stumbled and cursed softly. When they reached the bed, Peter lost his balance and fell back with a gasp, but Chris was there to catch him. He looked at Peter, who was more or less trapped in a French dip and had a half amused, half annoyed expression, before he grabbed him under the knee and lifted him up to dump him on the bed.

The face Peter made when he bounced was the most comical thing Chris had seen in a long time, and he was going to keep it in his mental files forever.

Chris got Peter situated on his back, unzipping the sides of his boots and pulling them off to dump on the floor, followed quickly by his socks. Then Chris took him under the armpits and dragged him so he was sideways, his head almost dangling off, so Chris could put both hands on his chest.

He rubbed at the hot skin, dragging his palms hard down over his ribcage then coming back up with his nails. Peter whined softly and seemed to fight not move around. Chris would have to push past those inhibitions, somehow show Peter it was safe for Peter to let go. Not too much, but a little bit. So he grabbed Peter’s nipple and gave them a sharp yank.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Peter bit out, clenching his teeth together as he arched upward, back bending like a bow.

“Like that, huh?” Chris asked, and he smiled down at him as Peter narrowed his eyes. “What about this?” He rolled those nipples harshly with the calloused pads of his thumbs, and Peter hissed. “Or this?” He scratched his thumbnails lightly back and forth across the abused nubs, which were burning, puffy points, and Peter let out a growl low in his throat. “Not talking? Can’t have that.” Chris took hold of those nipples and twisted them.

Peter let out a sky, arching upward again as his leg jerked like he wanted to kick Chris in the balls. When Chris grinned down at him, Peter glared then turned his head to bite down on Chris’s inner thigh.

“Augh, you fuck!” Chris spat, jerking away and lifting a hand to smack Peter right across the face. At Peter’s wounded animal noise, Chris wondered if he’d overstepped. He touched Peter’s cheek as the redness quickly faded. “Color?”

Peter opened his and turned his head forward a bit from where it had snapped to the side. “So very green,” he said, taking on a wolfish grin.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Bite me again and I’ll have to find another use for your mouth.”

Peter lifted a brow then nipped his thigh again.

Grabbing Peter’s hair, Chris jerked his head back at a painful angle. “If you wanna suck my cock, you could just say please.”

Peter grinned as best he could as he winced. “That word didn’t come installed in my vocabulary program.” He clenched his eyes shut as his hair was tugged. “What were you going to do with my mouth again?” he asked, peeking through one eye.

Chris stared down at him, using the hand not curled in his hair to undo his own belt. He had his dick out a moment later through the hole in his briefs and the V of his open fly. He wasn’t hard yet--not because he wasn’t _very_ interested--but he was well on his way, and he knew he was going to enjoy fattening up completely inside Peter’s mouth.

Peter seemed eager too, arching his neck and opening his mouth as his eyes went half-lidded. He even stuck out his tongue a little, reaching for a taste of the mixture of sweat, musk and precome clinging to the the head of Chris’s cock. 

Chris let him have the taste, and he sighed at the feel of a hot, wet tongue caressing his cockhead, the flared corona and the bundled scar just beneath. But then he released his hair and took hold of his chin, hooking his thumb behind his bottom teeth and opening his mouth wide. “Kick if you need to safeword,” he told Peter, who made a little moaning sound before Chris blocked his airways with his dick.

He had been right about loving the feel of Peter’s mouth around him as he hardened completely, and what he loved even more was the way Peter’s jaw and throat flexed to accommodate him. He set his hands at the base of Peter’s ribcage, using that as leverage to _fuck Peter’s face._ He let himself be rough, knowing Peter wanted it and could take it, and take it he did, hollowing his cheeks and using his tongue when he could. He didn’t complain, even as his face went red and moisture gathered in droplets on his eyelashes.

When Chris felt that tightening in his balls, he slowly, pressing flush against Peter’s face and feeling him swallow frantically for a second, just savoring it. Then he withdrew slow, breathing harshly through his nose, but perfectly silent to Peter’s harsh gasping. He watched Peter swallow air for a second, and when he opened those blue eyes, two tears leaked in uneven lines toward his sideburns.

Chris got a handle on his breathing as he stared down at Peter, at his flushed cheeks and glossy expression. “You green?” he asked.

Peter swallowed a few times, before he grinned wide. “Like Christmas,” he said, his completely ravaged.

Well, the smile on Chris’s face was one he just couldn’t help. 

Chris cupped the back of Peter’s neck, lifting him up into a sitting position and pressing up against his back. “Good boy,” he murmured into his slightly disheveled hair, now damp with sweat. Peter shivered, leaning heavily against him and licking his swollen lips. With a glance at those lips, Chris leaned in and pressed his own to them. Peter froze, surprised for the second time, and Chris smiled, before Peter surged against him.

A flip and a twist later, and Chris had Peter’s pants off--he’d forgone underwear, predictably--with two fingers buried inside of him, slicked with the club’s complimentary lube. Peter was having trouble staying still, his toes grasping at the sheets as he tried to figure out if he wanted to throw his head back or hide his face in his own shoulder. He growling, or, trying to. He sounded like he was doing little puffs of purrs, teeth bared, with a whimper thrown in every now and again.

“Come the fuck on!” Peter shouted after what was apparently too long of Chris alternating between stroking him inside and spreading his fingers apart. His eyes went bright and his teeth got a little sharp, not full wolf but certainly a threat of it. “Christopher, I swear to Christ.”

“You don’t believe in Christ,” Chris teased, but it wasn’t like he did either. “Maybe I like seeing you like this.” He stroked the pads of his fingers inside of Peter, smiling as his back bowed with it. “You look like a wolf in a rut.” He twisted his fingers and Peter let out a whine. “Or in heat.”

Peter moaned hard, his whole body shivering with it as his dick drooled against his stomach, looking _angry_ and so flushed. 

Chris pulled his fingers from Peter’s heat and took his dick in hand. “Is that it, hm? Are you overheated? Are you needy right now, wolf?” He smiled, stroking him slowly. “You feeling slutty, wolf?” He took hold of Peter’s chin when he tried to look away. “ _My_ slutty wolf.”

Peter’s breath picked up just a tick. “Yours,” he gasped, trying to thrust up into Chris’s hand. “Please!”

To that, Chris twisted his grip on the head of Peter’s dick, before he let go and leaned away to dig into the bedside drawer, pulling out one of the many provided condoms. He ripped it open and wordlessly started to roll it on.

“That’s it?” Peter asked, sounding stunned, before he went all irritated. “That’s what you were waiting on? For me to ask nicely?”

“You said to make you work for it,” Chris said, taking hold of Peter’s hips and lifting him up. 

“I will fucking kill y-- _uuuuuungh!_ ” Peter tossed his head back as he was filled to the brim in one harsh thrust, mouth falling open and eyes closing in bliss.

Chris moved up onto his knees, one hand under Peter’s ass as he bent over him. At this point, it was be anti-climactic and a bit insulting not to wreck Peter, to give him everything he had and maybe ruin him a little for others. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he needed it too.

So he went to town, moving mercilessly while being fueled on by Peter’s harsh moans and near wounded moans. Chris used his mouth too, alternating between kissing Peter’s shoulder and biting at his chest. He caught his nipple between his teeth and tugged in time with fucking into him hard, and Peter whined, arching up for more.

“Gonna come?” Chris asked, before he tongue a quickly fading bite mark right under Peter’s throat. “Huh? Gonna come on my dick?”

“Yeah,” Peter gasped, before he swallowed and said, louder, “Yes!”

“Wait just a bit more, Peter,” Chris bit out to him, feeling the building lower in his belly. “I want you to come with me. It won’t be long.” He panted against Peter’s chest as he whimpered, before he shifted to bent him partway in half so he could reach his mouth. He bit his lips and sucked his tongue as Peter did his best in the awkward position to move with him, clenching his muscles down on his dick. 

Then Chris was coming with a grunt, surprised at the feeling as he’d wanted to last longer. He felt Peter jerk, hot come splashing between them when he couldn’t hold on anymore either. Then they slumped together, panting hot against their damp skin. When Chris got a handle on his breathing, he lifted up and looked at Peter.

There were a weird vulnerability that Chris had never seen before in Peter’s blue eyes, a question. “Was that…?” he murmured, nodding down between them where his spunk was streaking their stomachs.

Chris took a second, trying to figure out how he was going to answer. Finally he leaned forward and touched Peter’s cheek, caressing with his thumb. “It was perfect,” he told him honestly. “You’re perfect.”

There was a moment or two where that openness lingered in Peter’s eyes, a soft smile touching his lips, before his expression went calculatedly guarded again, a sharp grin showing his teeth. “Well, _that_ is a given.”

As Chris reminded himself that the scene was over, so he couldn’t just smack Peter again, the door opened, revealing a man alarmingly beautiful features. He looked at Chris then to Peter, before he licked his lips as his eyes bled completely black.

Peter tensed immediately, and before he could even cry out “Incubus!” Chris whipped his gun out from his back holster and unloaded three shots, each with a silent _pff!_ , right into the lust demon’s forehead. When the creature fell, Chris realized he had never felt so steady in his life.

“Look at you,” Peter said, relaxing against the bed again. “You did it all by yourself.”

Chris placed his gun back, letting out a slow sigh. “Nah, you helped more than you know,” he told him honestly.

“Aw, Christopher,” Peter purred, and Chris couldn’t tell if that was genuine or sarcastic. Peter flicked his eyes down between them then up again. “You know you’re still inside me, right?”

“Oh, shit,” Chris hissed, pulling away.

After he had untied Peter’s hands and righted the state of his jeans, Chris dialed Sheriff Stilinski’s personal number. He told him about the body and how the attacks should stop now, then he looked over at Peter, watching him pull on his pants and boots. When John told them to leave the scene, Chris hung up.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Peter pulled at the tattered remains of his shirt. “More or less,” he said, before he shrugged.

In the space of three heartbeats, Chris had his jacket shrugged off and offered it to Peter, who looked at it in surprise, before he slowly took it. He pulled it on and hugged it around himself. It was a bit bit on him since Chris had broader shoulders, but Chris couldn’t help but think it looked good. That was just one reason why a smile just wouldn’t leave Chris’s face as they made their escape out of the back of the club.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [my Tumblr](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/post/149211040506/commission-faq)!


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